Not Drunk
by BoredomIsAnUnderstatement
Summary: When we Johnlockians get together on Omegle, well...thus ensues this craziness. Sherlock sends John drunken texts leading him to his bedroom. Fluffy!PWP. Ignoring or after Reichenbach. Co-authored with the awesome lyraeliowy - look her up, she's awesome. :D


**Drabble:**_**Not Drunk**_

**Disclaimer:**** Johnlock would be for realz if I owned this amazing show. Also, it wouldn't be this awesome, it'd be filled almost solely with sex, and it wouldn't exist anywhere but my head.**

**A.N.:**** Because Johnlockian!Strangers on Omegle are EPIIIIIIIC. Sadly, I have no idea who this person was (they disconnected before I could ask), so if you recognize yourself on here, then please let me know so I can credit you. :I**

**EDIT:**** Yay, my co-author found me! The ever-so-lovely **_**lyraeliowy**_** was the "Stranger" in this fic (a.k.a. Jawn). YOU WERE SO MUCH FUN! WE SHOULD TOTS DO THIS AGAIN! XD**

**Before you go any farther, just know that this is pretty much just PWP with hints of fluff and stupid thrown in for good measure...and internet memes because Sherlock goes on Tumblr. That's just how this shit IS.**

**Also: I left this in Omegle format because I'm really, really lazy. Sorry.**

**Pairing:**** John/Sherlock (I will go down with this ship...)**

**-00-**

**You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!**

**You and the stranger both like Johnlock.**

**You:** ...Jawn? -SH

**Stranger:** Sherlock? -JW

**You:** Jawn, we're out of MILK! -SH

**Stranger:** Why are you calling me that? -JW

**You:** 'beCAAAUSE I'm DRUCK JAWN! -SH

**Stranger:** Oh God. -JW

**You:** And we're out fo MILK!

**Stranger:** Why the hell would you get drunk? I thought you didn't even drink. -JW

**You:** And I I THING w'ere out of your jam, Jawn. -SH

**You:** I DON'T! -SH

**Stranger:** But you did. -JW

**Stranger:** You don't even like jam! -JW

**You:** I liek my tea but their was drown sfutt in the cabnet. -SH

**You:** nO, BUT YOU DO! -sh

**Stranger:** I can't even begin to decipher that. But how are we out of jam if you didn't eat it? There was still some left earlier. -JW

**You:** Ts an expermint. -SH

**You:** You aet all yourj JAM JAWN! -SH

**You:** Ccan you cume home noaw? -SH

**Stranger:** I'm almost there. This should be interesting, I suppose. And no I didn't, I just said there was some left this morning. -JW

**You:** NonOO, I wacthedy ou aet itall. jUS CUUJJM home. -sH

**Stranger:** Jesus, how much did you drink? -JW

**You:** I leki ths teaaa... -SH

**Stranger:** It's probably not tea. Stop drinking it. -JW

**You:** Si si godd - NO I LEIK DRKNINIG IT! -SH

**You:** Im n yooure rom com fiend me! :D -SH

**You:** isss godd... -SH

**You:** HIDE NSEEEEEEEAK! -SH

**Stranger:** An /emoticon/? Yes, fine, I'm home. -JW

John came up the stairs quickly, both expecting the worst and trying to suppress a laughing fit. If this wasn't some experiment on how he would react to fake drunk texts, then this would be hilarious. "Sherlock?"

**You:** "SHHHH!" came a muffled hiss. "Shhh Jawn, 'm hinding!"

**Stranger:** Okay. Not an experiment, then. John poked his head into his room and wrinkled his nose at the smell of alcohol. "Come on, Sherlock. Let's get you to bed, stop being childish."

**You:** "NOOOOO I'm lready in yer bed!" Sherlock wailed indignantly from the lump under the covers.

**Stranger:** "You can't sleep in my bed, you git." John pulled back the blankets and had to hold back a snort. "God, you /are/ drunk, aren't you?"

**You:** "Nu! 'M not a git...er a childs!" Sherlock grabbed the blankets back and threw them back over his head. "'N shhhh...'M hidin' from Jawn!"

**Stranger:** "What the hell are you-" John dropped his face into his hand and sighed, grinning. "You're not doing a good job of it, considering I'm right here."

**You:** A muffled growl. "I am doo doin a gud jobub! Yew can't see 'm undur your bblankets an' nakid!" One could hear the drunken grin emminating from the bed.

**Stranger:** John took a long breath at that, slightly less amused than he had been a few minutes ago. "Naked. Great, wonderful. You're going to hate yourself tomorrow, you know that, don't you?"

**You:** "I don't believe I will anymore than usual, why do you ask?" the brunette said, popping his head out from under the covers and sounding much too sharp to be drunk. His crisp blue eyes sparkled in the dark light as he looked up to John.

**Stranger:** "Oh, I've saved you the job. Get out of my bed, idiot." John crossed his arms and put on his best army captain face. "Either that or I'll just drag you out."

**You:** "Oh, good luck with that, 'Jawn,'" Sherlock replied with a wicked grin. He then laid back languidly against the pillows, the blankets slipping down slightly.

**Stranger:** "Ha ha, you're bloody hilarious, we've established that." John contemplated for a few seconds, then stepped forward, grabbed Sherlock under his arms, and heaved him out from under the covers.

**You:** "Ah-ah-ah, John! Don't forget I'm starkers under here, wouldn't want to see that...or would you?" he hummed, his voice coy and his eyebrows doing suggestive little wiggles.

**Stranger:** "You are such a child." John dropped him and sighed, leaning against the wall. "Why are you naked, Sherlock?"

**You:** Looking at John upside-down as he laid half off the bed, Sherlock gave a funny look. "To see your reaction, of course, and to see if it would get me anywhere." He said this as if his goals were obvious.

**Stranger:** "G-get you anywhere?" John blinked and ran over this a few times, trying to see if this could possibly mean what he thought it did.

**You:** "Yes - get me anywhere, as in with you." Again, this was spoken with an air of obviousness that simply could not be suppressed.

**Stranger:** "Right, of course," John said faintly. He shuffled his foot for a moment before making a decision and walking over to sit on the bed beside Sherlock. "So you're...interested?"

**You:** He refused to roll over and instead looked down his nose up at John's chin - he liked the feeling of the blood rushing to his head. "How have we lived together this long and you haven't picked that up?" he mused aloud.

**Stranger:** "No idea." He raised an eyebrow at Sherlock's position. "And you've obviously found me out, then."

**You:** "It was simple - all that 'I'm not gay' talk you've been going on about - simple." He stretched his neck a little more and watched as John's eyes followed the movement.

**Stranger:** John blinked again and swallowed past his suddenly dry throat. "I'm not. Not entirely, I guess." He found himself drawing his gaze along Sherlock's neck again and fixed his eyes on the floor.

**You: **"Oh no, not entirely, of course not. I know what you like - who you like - how you like it..." Sherlock could feel John trying hard not to look at him, so he doubled his efforts to capture his attention. He leaned his head farther over the edge and gave the smallest, softest of sighs.

**Stranger:** John bit his lip, face flushing. "That's not fair." He tried to say it with conviction, he really did, but it came out a lot weaker than he'd planned.

**You:** "What's not fair, John? The fact that your bedroom is directly over mine so I have to hear you whenever you bring a woman home? The moans she makes, the sounds of dissatisfaction you make because she isn't who you want her to be? What isn't fair to you, John? I've been watching you for three years and slipping innuendos into conversation for the past two - how isn't this fair?"

**Stranger:** John blushed a bit more, ducking his head. "No, I suppose...two years? Really? God, I must be the biggest idiot on the planet."

**You:** "Well, not the biggest," Sherlock shrugged. He glanced back at John's reddening face that he was trying so hard to hide. Rolling his eyes, he rolled over at last, practically knocking the doctor over. "Look - what do YOU want, John? That is what I'm doing here, naked, in your bed. What. Do. You. Want?"

**Stranger:** John looked down at him, started to explain himself, then shook his head. "This." He leaned down and pressed his lips to Sherlock's, closing his eyes.

**You:** Sherlock was slightly taken aback - he'd been expecting SOMEthing, but overall he was just guessing, spouting bits of what he'd hoped was true. He hadn't thought John would do something so direct as to kiss him. He wasn't about to stop, though; he immediately reacted (more than he would care to admit), sitting up and climbing onto John.

**Stranger:** John huffed out a breath through his nose and slid his hands into Sherlock's hair, holding him close. Finally. Why he'd skirted this for so long, he had no idea.

**You:** Sherlock pressed down on John, hard, and enjoyed the surprised noise the shorter man made as they fell against the sheets. How he'd wanted to touch John like this, to hear the sounds he made during sex but for him, because of him.

**Stranger:** John broke away long enough to choke out, "I seem to be at a disadvantage." He tugged at his jumper, struggling to get it off.

**You:** "Hm, yes, I agree completely," Sherlock muttered before latching onto John's throat and tugging at his trousers.

**Stranger:** John gasped quietly, pressing him closer. "God, Sherlock, you're too good at this..." He lifted his hips to help get his jeans off.

**You:** "I don't know why everyone seems to think I'm a virgin, I..." One look at John's pink, glistening face looking up at him in disbelief silenced his mini-rant. "Oh, sod it," he breathed and went right back to kissing, licking, and nibbling.

**Stranger:** John tried to get out a sarcastic "thanks" but failed miserably, pushing back up into Sherlock, groaning softly. He slung one leg over Sherlock's, pulling their hips together.

**You:** Sherlock groaned at the sudden contact of their middles. He could feel John trying to set a rhythm and, for once, willingly let him take charge.

**Stranger:** John nipped at Sherlock's lip softly, attempting to control his breathing. Not the time to hyperventilate.

**You:** Sherlock slipped a hand between them and started massaging John's flesh, his long fingers working into the skin. He could feel the erratic heartbeat thrumming against John's lungs, both fighting to stay in control.

**Stranger:** John moaned and tossed his head back in abandon, unable to keep himself from gasping again. "Sh-Sherlock..."

**You:** "Yesss, let go, John, lose it...!" Sherlock's own heart was ramming into his rib-cage and demanding his pelvis do the same. He was trying to hold back - he didn't want to hurt John - but telling someone to lose control while he kept his in check was damn-near impossible.

**Stranger:** "I can't...fuck, Sherlock, I can't hold on, it's too good..." John cried out and pulled at Sherlock's hips, hissing as they came together. "I can't..."

**You:** "Oh...John...!" he hissed, and finally he couldn't hold on. He thrust his body forward, finding John's entrance both enticing and welcoming to him.

**Stranger:** "Ahh!" John lifted his legs, locking them around Sherlock's waist. "Yes, please, Sherlock, yes!"

**You:** Sherlock couldn't hear anything anymore. He could only rock forward and back in the oblivion, into the bliss, that was Doctor John Hamish Watson.

**Stranger:** John practically sobbed with pleasure, twisting his hands in the sheets and pushing back in counterpoint with Sherlock's thrusts. "Godgodgod Sherlock yes fuck yes!"

**You:** Sherlock could barely make out John's lips moving and could guess at the words, but he didn't want to. Instead, he smashed them against his own, all tongue and teeth, and ground into John harder. This had to be a dream - nothing could feel this magnificent.

**Stranger:** John moaned into Sherlock's mouth, taking his hands away from the bed to tangle in his curls and tug him forward. He tensed as he fought down his climax, needing this to last as long as humanly possible.

**You:** Several harsh tugs in Sherlock's messy hair told him exactly what he needed to know - John was getting close. Now was the time to make him completely abandon reality and himself. He pulled at John's legs until they were clenched in the crooks of his elbows, then began to pound into that perfect, small spot that would make John scream.

**Stranger:** John shuddered and almost roared with the effort of suppressing himself. "Ahhngh! Sherlock! I'm-I'm gonna come, Sherlock, I'm-"

**You:** Sherlock bit down on John's lower lip and promptly emptied himself into him, enjoying the heat and friction and John coming on his command.

**Stranger:** John let his legs go limp in Sherlock's arms, panting and opening his eyes. "Sherlock. God."

**You:** "Yes, I know I am," was the raspy reply. Sherlock was sucking in air and sound like he'd been without both for a century. His sweat was gliding off his skin and mixing with John's, making them slippery and sticky all at once as he fell to the doctor's side.

**Stranger:** "'Git," John laughed breathlessly, pressing his palms to his eyes. "That was amazing." He rolled over and rested his head on Sherlock's shoulder, breathing slowly.

**You:** Sherlock was quiet for a moment as their breathing stabled out. Finally, he murmured, "I didn't...I didn't hurt you, did I?" His voice was so small and uncertain it could have crushed John's soul.

**Stranger:** "God, no. 'Course not. I would've stopped you. Don't even think like that." He found Sherlock's hand and twined their fingers together. "Thank you."

**You:** The consulting detective frowned and furrowed his brow. "For what?" he whispered, still sounding small.

**Stranger:** "This." John leaned up and planted a small kiss on the wrinkles between Sherlock's eyebrows. "I never would have...I'm an idiot, Sherlock, I wouldn't have said anything."

**You:** Sherlock felt his whole face - his whole body - relax into that kiss and what John said. But still, he felt almost guilty. "But I tricked you, I lied - I pretended to be drunk so I could have an excuse for being naked in your bed. And I was...lying, guessing, I wasn't entirely sure you wanted me."

**Stranger:** "It turned out, didn't it?" John smiled at him gently. "Don't feel like you did something wrong, alright? It was a very...you way to go about it, anyhow."

**You:** "Hm. I didn't think about it like that," Sherlock muttered, looking thoughtful. "So...you're okay with...this? Us?"

**Stranger:** "Yes, of course. I'm ecstatic about it." John shifted closer and sighed happily. "I've wanted it for a long time, and I was just too afraid of what might happen to actually act on it and see what would happen."

**You:** At this, the detective became curious. "Really?" he said. "Perhaps I should have done this sooner." Then, ever so gently, he uncurled himself from John's side, gave him a soft kiss, and turned to leave the room (still starkers).

**Stranger:** John propped himself up on his elbows. "Where are you going?" He'd hoped Sherlock would stay, but if he was uncomfortable with it, then...

**You:** Sherlock paused at the doorway and turned back to look at his flatmate. He could hear the surprise and almost-hurt in the man's voice, but he didn't understand it. "The kitchen for tea, and perhaps to work on an experiment or two. I thought you might want some rest," he answered. He didn't need to finish the sentence: "by yourself" hung in the air like a stench.

**Stranger:** It was John's turn to frown this time. "Well, if you want, go ahead. I'm not going to stop you. But when you've finished, if you'd like to come back, I'd... appreciate it."

**You:** At this, Sherlock had the immediate desire to kick himself. Of course! John wanted him to stay because...well, that's how humans are, he supposed. With a shake of his head and a soft laugh at himself, he crawled back into bed beside John, tugging the ruined blankets up to their chins.

**Stranger:** John smiled and laid his head on Sherlock's shoulder again. "Hoped you'd get there."

**You:** "Took me a bit, didn't it?" he agreed, settling down and getting comfortable with John - HIS John, his brain informed him sharply. This memory was going in the front room of his mind-palace so he could conjure it up whenever he wanted without having to look for it.

**Stranger:** John closed his eyes, inhaling deeply and trying to commit everything to memory like he knew Sherlock was. Sherlock. His...boyfriend? Lover? he mentally shrugged, saving that for a time when he wasn't in a post-sex haze, and yawned.

**You:** "John...?" he whispered as the man's breathing began to deepen - he was falling asleep, he had to tell him now.

**Stranger:** "Mm?" He opened his eyes again and looked at him curiously. What was that in his voice?

**You:** "John, I...I don't know how to say it...!" Sherlock was struck with exasperation, he felt so stupid! How could he express what he felt in words when he didn't even know how to define whatever it was that was going on inside him? He could guess at the chemicals, but that didn't narrow down his search of what to say. All he could do was sigh in aggravation.

**Stranger:** "Hey. Look at me." John brushed his thumb along Sherlock's cheekbone soothingly. "It's okay. Don't give yourself more trouble than what is actually merited. You look like you've just thought of what the meaning of life is or something."

**You:** "Yes!" he twisted in John's grasp so he could get a better look at him. His eyes were sparkling and wide, the smallest smile blossoming. "That's it, John! It's you - you are the meaning of life to me, you are everything!" Sherlock flung himself onto the army-doctor and kissed him, hoping to convey every feeling and thought that was running rampant through him.

**Stranger:** John felt actual tears spring to his eyes, shocked into pressing back mindlessly. This whole evening had been unexpected, but this...this was huge. He cradled Sherlock's face with his hands and responded as best he could without speaking, not trusting himself to say anything even remotely intelligent.

**You:** As Sherlock pulled away, he looked into John's distant face. He wasn't sure why the man looked so surprised, but he didn't question him. Exhaustion was tugging at his eyelids in a way that he hadn't felt in years, and for once, he was willing to let sleep win - so long as John was with him in his dreams just like this.

**Stranger:** John smiled up at him and tugged him down, nestling beside him. "You look half-asleep already." He began tracing abstract patterns over Sherlock's knuckles with his thumb in an oddly intimate manner.

**You:** "Hm," was the smartest thing Sherlock could come up with. The shapes John was drawing on his hands were distracting his brain and lulling him to sleep. He breathed into soft, blond hair, and that was all he managed before he slipped into sleep.

**Stranger:** John laughed and sighed once, shifting close to Sherlock and letting himself slip under, wrapped in the safety of Sherlock's arms.

**Your conversational partner has disconnected.**

**-00-**

**A.N.2:**** Okay, so I obviously edited it a bit, but I DON'T CAAAAARRRE! Also, I wanted to include why Sherlock smells drunk but isn't actually drunk, but I never got around to it. Just imagine the scene in the original 60-minute pilot episode where he dumps half a bottle of alcohol over himself. That should explain it. :D I get the feeling that I have more stuff to say, but...bleh. Fuck it, I'm done. :I**


End file.
